Necessary Sacrifice
by bandaidofdoom
Summary: When Guts thinks about leaving to help Griffith, he ends up teaching everyone a slightly different lesson. Griffith/Guts, Lemon


**Necessary Sacrifices**

**Series:** Berserker

**Rating: **M for lemon, lime-ish scenes as well

**Pairing: **Griffith/Guts

**Necessary Sacrifices**

It hurt to know that you would be abandoning your friends, even if you were doing what was best for them. It hurt infinity more when you were leaving your lover for the same reason. And that was the choice Guts had made. He loved Griffith; by God, the man meant the world to him. And that was why he had to go. He loved Griffith, and the Leader had told him numerous times that he returned those emotions. But if Griffith wanted to be king, then he'd have to marry a princess. And marriage was binding. Sleeping with someone else was strongly discouraged. At least, he'd always been led to believe so. And that was why he had to leave. So that the love of his life could fulfill the dream that he had for so long strived for.

Of course, one did not simply stroll up and say, "Jees Griffith, things aren't working out very well with you and me and the princess. Maybe I should just leave; that would make things easier in you two." No, that would just result in Griffith giving him one of those beautiful, unresistable smiles while explaining exactly why things could and should stay the way they were. And Guts would end up believing every word, and they'd never get anything done. He fell so easily for Griffith's smiles. They could make him weak in the knees, even as the very memory of them gave him strength enough to kill a thousand men to keep the fair skinned man safe. No, such a forthcoming approach would never work. Guts would have to rely on something else, something he had almost no experience in. Subtly

Yes, these sort of things were probably better left to Griffith, but Guts could hardly ask advice from the man he was trying to fool. Anyone else in the Hawks was out as well, as they would immediately go and tell Griffith everything. No, this was something Guts would have to do himself. Thankfully, he'd killed enough men to know exactly what it looked like to die. There was no doubt in his mind that he could pull off the faking his own death part. It was the staying fake dead act that had him a little nervous. He'd managed to dig up the rest of the potion Griffith himself had used when deceiving the queen and her fellow plotters, and after a little experimentation and quite a few head aches, he'd managed to sort out how much he would need to appear dead for an entire day. He knew that Griffith would never burn his body; the knight had always believed that true heroes deserved to go to the grave with their bodies still intact. It was a mark of honor or something; the man had been idly tracing the muscles on Guts' back, and said muscled man hadn't really been paying much attention to anything else. But he was sure that it would work. It had to. Griffith was worth the pain, the grief that would follow. Guts knew that, and that knowledge was the only thing that sustained him through the night before their raid.

The hardest part was, without a doubt, the night before. Having Griffith, his slender lover, entwined around him was enough to make him want to reconsider the entire thing. Guts tried not to be overly affectionate; go too far out of his usual taciturn personality and Griffith would suspect something. But he also wanted the man to have a last, good memory before Guts 'died'. And so Guts relied on the one thing that he knew always worked: distraction. When Griffith came into the tent, eyes soft and a little tired from planning the next days strategy, Guts lay on their shared cots (one was just not big enough for him, so they'd strapped to together) under a blanket and closed his eyes. The rough wool covering just barely graced his hips, and from the moment he entered the tent Guts could feel Griffith's eyes on him. And just like clock work, the minute Griffith had divested himself of his armor Guts had an entirely welcome visitor stretched out on his chest.

"Don't you think it's a little early for sleeping?"

"I don't give a damn. Sleep's sleep, no matter what time you get it."

"Guts, sometimes I wonder how-hmm-!"

Griffith's surprise at the kiss made Guts' heart jump. Nothing stopped him lovers occasionally rambling monologues like lip locked tongue wars. Guts had learned that the hard way, but it was a weapon he loved to rely on. And Griffith didn't seem to mind it so much either, come to think of it.

"Do you ever," Guts murmured, lips brushing Griffith's, "Ever stop talking?"

"Only when you make me, love."

"Well, hot damn. Let me get started."

**WARNING: For those of you who dislike lemon scenes, please skip to the next break**

Griffith smiled then, but the expression soon turned to one of surprise and quickly built passion and Guts rolled him over. His scarred hands wandered happily over alabaster skin, taking in the flawless lines of the Hawks' leader. Shirt, tunic and pants were tossed aside, and Griffith positively whimpered when Gut's hands -cool from the night air despite their activities- found purchase around his member. He felt himself harden in the big hands, and one look into the amused brown eyes above him told Griffith that Guts had felt it too. The captain of the raiders nibbled gently on the side of the knight's neck, eliciting moans and quiet sighs from it's owner as he moved down to grace Griffith's collarbone with the same ministrations. Yes, this was very, very nice.

In a pleasingly short amount of time, Guts had Griffith reduced to a puddle of nerve endings beneath him, and the knight was quietly mewling something about how Guts should "stop teasing and just fuck me!" The swordsman was more then happy to oblidge, but like everything else that happpened now, it would be on his terms. Gentle hands stroked Griffith's chest and hair while Guts used a knee to spread Griffith's legs. Then Guts withdrew, stealing across the tent to grab a tiny vial of rose oil. It smelled wonderful -to Griffith- and Guts knew it was perfectly safe. While the swordsman really couldn't care less if the Hawk's leader used wagon grease to lube him, the raider captain only let what he knew wouldn't hurt Griffith inside his lover. He slicked one finger with the oil, gently kissing his lover again while he slide the digit past Griffith's entrance. The knight made a few tiny noises, but they were drowned in Guts' kiss anyway so it was of little matter. He rolled his hips against the welcome intrusion, hoping Guts would soon-

"Ah! Guts, ready...."

Guts merely chuckled, sliding one more finger inside the man and making scissoring motions to stretch his lover just a little more. He knew that Griffith would probably screw him completely unprepared if Guts didn't always insist on the stretching and lubing process. He would never see his love put through that sort of pain.

"Gu-uts! You. In. Me. NOW!"

"Yes sir." Guts positioned himself, gripped Griffith's hips and thrust in.

The moment was perfect for both of them. Griffith arched into the move, shoulders barely touching the ground as he ground his hips against the thrusts. Guts had simply bent over, eyes clenched shut as he braced his forearms against the ground and waited. The second he felt Griffith adjust, he pulled almost all the way out and thrust back in, using both his knees and his arms to add power to the movement. Griffith cried out, pain and pleasure meeting and combining in him. He climaxed then, pouring hot seed all over himself and getting some on Guts. But the swordsman kept going, and drove Griffith toward his next climax almost immediately. Every move brought both men closer to the edge, until finally the swordsman buried himself deep inside Griffith and came, shouting his lovers name for the world to hear. Practically sobbing with the sensation, Griffith orgasmed a final time and lay shuddering

against the sheets beneath him.

Slowly, Guts pulled away from Griffith, rolling over and sprawling out next to the night. He heard a slight disturbance next to him, and suddenly felt a cool cloth running against him, cleaning the spilt seed from his torso. He took the cloth from Griffith when the man was done and gently cleaned the knight's pale skin. Then, bone tired and very content, he dragged a blanket over them both and gathered Griffith into his arms. The knight murmured tiredly and cuddled against him, making Guts' heart ache. He would be leaving all this behind tomorrow. Guts held his lover close, memorizing every second. He wanted to remember this forever.

_I love you, Griffith. Please, don't forget this when you are king. I will always love you more then she ever could. Remember that. Don't forget about me._

**Thank you for reading and/or skipping ahead. We will now return to your regular fan fiction.**

"We will charge to the left!" Griffith's voice was calm, and held a tone of command that made all the Hawks listen to him. "Take them by surprise, and capture the wagons. Take out anyone who resists. Ready, move out!"

The thunder of hooves sounded across the plains, and the Hawks began their attack. Guts watched with pride as his raiders took control of the problem, eliminating the guards and driving the supply wagons out into the field where other members of the Hawks waited to guard them. The Raiders job done and his men safe, Guts urged his horse back toward the battle. He could feel the potion begin to work within him, and he knew that his time was just about used up. This was the worst part, but it had to be done. Griffith had to see it, or he wouldn't believe it. It had to be proven to his eyes, or he wouldn't let the 'truth' sink in.

"Guts, you've done well. I've no doubt this will be a successful raid." Griffith's voice was warm, and the smile that he reserved just for Guts. "Now we'll-"

The rough _thwang _ of a crossbow interrupted the man, and Guts felt the familiar quick pain of a bolt burying into the muscles in his side. It was a little higher than usual, but certainly not fatal. Of course, the blood spraying from the wound would not help convince anyone of that. He let himself waver in the saddle, eyes going wide. The potion had already glazed his eyes a little, but he could still see. Griffith's face-horror struck already grieving- was the last thing that swam before his vision before his eyes closed and he slid to the side, so very dizzy...

"GUTS! GUTS!"

Griffith leaped to the ground, barely catching the man before he toppled from the saddle. Remounting, he galloped toward the rear, shouting for Kaska to command the raid. One slender gauntleted hand clung to Guts' shirt, keeping the man on his horse as he steered both mounts to the camp. There were a few of the Hawks who were good with binding and sewing wounds; Griffith always left them back at camp in case they were needed. And this was the reason he did it. The knight was already shouting for someone, anyone to help him before he had stopped the horses. Men came rushing out, taking Guts away from him and carrying him into a tent. Griffith could only shudder his way down from the saddle, kneeling on the ground as he wrapped his arms around himself. It didn't matter that the armor made it impossible to warm himself; he was too deep in shock to care. His Guts, his beautiful, jaded Guts was.....No. No, this was Guts. The man had defied death a thousand times over; a single bolt couldn't bring him down. It wasn't possible. He couldn't have lost his lover right before his eyes. He just couldn't have. There was no way...

"I'm sorry, Griffith. Guts....he's gone."

"G....gone? Guts is...no. No! Guts, no! Not now, no! GUTS!" Griffith fought past the members of his band, forcing his way into the tent. "Guts, if this is a jo-Oh, Guts."

He was so pale. Brown eyes were closed, and Griffith knew they would never open again. He would never see love or amusement or triumph in them again. His beloved had gone, had died right before his eyes. He hadn't gone fast enough, hadn't gotten Guts back to safety fast enough. If he'd just reacted faster, hadn't called him over, Guts would still be alive. He didn't want to admit it, couldn't admit it to himself. His Guts couldn't be gone. It just wasn't possible. Shouldn't be possible.

"Griffith! Griffith, what's....Guts? No, Guts! Wha-Griffith!" Kaska caught her leader as the knight collapsed, blue eyes trailing tears into his silver hair. He was in shock, and even as Kaska wrapped a blanket around him she knew it wasn't help. There was only one thing that that could warm him, and he laid dead on a cot. Dead.

**The Next Day**

Griffith had never before in his life put much stock in prayer, but for the last few hours he'd been on his knees. He'd been trying in vain to find the right words, but nothing seemed to come to mind. The sun had yet to rise, and when dawn fully broke they would be holding Guts' funeral. It didn't seem possible that a few hours ago he'd been curling up with the one love of his life, and now that same person was gone. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. What god would do this?

Griffith snarled a little, and then his anger fleeing the face of grief. Guts was gone. There was no hope. Even prayer had... Griffith knelt back to his knees, folding his hands and closing his eyes just as he'd been taught to as a boy.

"Dearest Heavenly Father, please...hear me. I don't know if oyu care about me; I am a mercenary and a taker of lives, and so is Guts. But...I love him, oh God. He means the very world to me. I cannot promise to stop fighting; it is who I am and cannot change it. But please, I shall never again forget your words in my heart. I beg of you, God, don't take him from me. Please, give me my Guts back. Amen." Griffith wiped tears away, suddenly feeling foolish. "What was I thinking. No one can raise the dead. Not even Go-"

"D...damn, I _hurt_."

"G....guts? Guts? GUTS!"

Guts' eyes widened a little. He'd made a mistake. Damn it, he'd made a mistake and now Griffith was going to kill him for real. Maybe if he tried to apologize. Groveling might make the execution quicker.

"Gri...ffith, I-"

"Guts, you're alive! I can't believe it! You...you're alive again!" Griffith launched himself onto Guts' chest, eyes streaming a little as he clung to the man. "Oh Guts, I love you! You're alive! I didn't lose you! Thank God! Prayer worked!"

"Griffith...hurts...."

"Sorry." Griffith loosened his hold a little, but simply buried his face into warming muscle and smiled through his tears. "I thought you were gone forever."

"Griffith, it's time for the....No. No, it can't be. You're dead! Guts!" Kaska tackled the man as well, eyes filling. "You were dead!"

"Sorry. You can fix that, if you want. It might hurt less."

Griffith laughed a little at that before leaning forward and kissing Guts lovingly. "You would have died for the Hawks." Unspoken was, of course, _for me._ That bolt could have hit him square in the chest, killing him instantly. Instead, it had killed Guts instead, and the man had been miraculousness brought back to life. "Thank you."

Looking at Griffith, Guts suddenly felt the fool. He would never tell Griffith the truth, he decided. The man needed this....faith. Maybe that's what he was trying to accomplish. Smiling a little, Guts returned the kiss and ruffled Kaska's hair.

"It was a necessary sacrifice."


End file.
